


Movie Night

by Dang_Nematode



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Brother-Sister Relationships, Crying, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Movie Night, Multi, Nail Polish, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Platonic Relationships, Polyamorous Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tea, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dang_Nematode/pseuds/Dang_Nematode
Summary: Wolfgang wakes up one morning to find himself sharing with Nomi during a particularly dysphoric day. He then hatches a plan to help make her feel better. A few weeks later, after she accidentally triggers a bad memory from his childhood, Nomi returns the favour.
Relationships: Amanita Caplan/Nomi Marks, Felix Brenner/Daniela Velasquez (Mentioned), Hernando Fuentes/Lito Rodriguez (Mentioned), Wolfgang Bogdanow & Nomi Marks, Wolfgang Bogdanow/Kala Dandekar/Rajan Rasal
Comments: 23
Kudos: 232





	1. Rude Awakenings, Nail Polish and Sleepless in Seattle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this is my first story, so comments are very much appreciated. Please let me know if I've missed a tag or anything.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: GENDER DYSPHORIA  
> This chapter deals with the dysphoria that Nomi experiences and goes into detail about how it affects her and how she feels about certain aspects of her body, when she is having a bad dysphoria day. So if any of you lovely trans girls and other fem-aligned folk are having worries about triggering dysphoria, or are already having a rough time with it, maybe give this one a miss, for now.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :)

The warm Parisian sun filtered softly through the blinds of the apartment bedroom, trailing golden fingers up over crumpled blue bedsheets, until it reached the blond head of the sole occupant of the bed. As the rays slid slowly over his face, Wolfgang stirred, before stretching leisurely and opening his eyes, letting them track slowly across the familiar features of the room as he slowly woke up.

Normally, the bed would be empty by this time of the day, as himself, Kala and Rajan all started work early, them at one of the international labs of Rasal Pharmaceuticals, which was located in the heart of the city and him at Felix’s newly-opened key shop. But yesterday, Felix had announced that he was closing the shop for a week, so that he could go for a holiday to Mexico to visit his long-distance girlfriend, Daniela.

Initially, they hadn’t really wanted much to do with each other, due to some poorly-executed flirting by Felix when they first met, which had resulted in him ducking under a shoe meant for his head and confusedly asking Wolfgang sometime later what _“hijo de puta”_ meant.

After a week or so of sometimes over-the-top, sometimes genuine apologies from Felix and heated glares from Daniela whenever he walked into the room, they finally found a common ground; football. 

Against the backdrop of whatever game was on, Felix’s insults and now-insufferable behaviour steadily melted into trash talking and his usual exaggerated antics, while Daniela’s looks of disgust and bursts of furious Spanish slowly shifted into amused smirks and playful mocking.

From there, the relationship flourished. Becoming fast friends, they would often sit together and talk, sometimes about serious topics like sports and politics and other times they’d be more in the mood to compare swear words in their respective languages. As the war against BPO dragged on, flirting slowly became a part of their exchanges and their relationship started to develop into something _more_.

Lito and Hernando, naturally, were very protective of their _conejita_ and were very wary of Felix, the trouble with Joaquin still fresh in their minds. Daniela was also quite nervous about dating after Joaquin, Lito confided to Wolfgang one night, concerned that she’d find herself in the same situation again.

Wolfgang did what he could to ease everyone’s worries, because while he, of course, felt _sick_ at the thought of anyone believing that Felix could _ever_ be abusive, he had a rather large soft spot for Daniela after the fight with Joaquin and she now had a place on the little (but steadily growing) list in the back of his mind of people that he would fight to protect.

He showed Lito the memories of Felix as a child, smashing a bottle over his father’s head and all the times he’d looked after him both physically and emotionally, after particularly bad run-ins with his father. Later that night in bed, when everyone else was asleep and the house was quiet, Lito shared with Hernando, in hushed whispers, what Wolfgang had shown him about Felix and his childhood.

The next night, as Wolfgang was helping Hernando do the dishes after dinner, the kitchen suspiciously empty of people, Hernando begun carefully asking him questions about what he’d discussed with Lito the night before. Wolfgang had answered him as honestly as he could, despite the discomfort he felt talking about his childhood.

He didn’t share Daniela’s story with Felix, simply telling him that she was important to not only the rest of cluster and Hernando, but also himself and not to fuck her over. 

Perhaps the most painful was the talk that he shared with Daniela. He’d shown her the old marks littering his torso and arms, that had come from a broken bottle, a belt, a cigar. He told her about Felix and how he was the one that had helped him time and time again, all those years ago.

Sun had gotten up the next night for a glass of water and had overheard Daniela and Felix talking quietly. She left as quickly and as quietly as she had entered, not want to pry into their private affairs. Lito, however, had no such qualms, badgering Dani for details the next morning and later informing Wolfgang that they had decided to “take things slowly”.

Now, almost 2 ½ years after the fall of BPO, the relationship between Felix and Daniela was getting more serious, with them regularly flying between Mexico and Paris to see each other. Their relationship was a source of delight for both Lito and Wolfgang, both of them ecstatic at the thought that two of the most important people in their lives had found someone _good_ , someone that they could lean on and who matched their intensity, general craziness and love for shoes.

Because of the shop’s closure, Wolfgang had no real need to be awake at his usual time, so he allowed himself to sleep in a bit. He had, of course, offered to get up with Kala and Rajan that morning, so that they could have some time together while they got ready for work, but they politely rejected, claiming that he could use the extra hours of rest.

But as Wolfgang sits up and swings his feet over the edge of the bed, scratching absently at his jaw, he feels his quiet contentment vanish along with the last dregs of drowsiness, as he wakes up fully.

Now, a slow, rolling kind of nausea accompanies an uncomfortable prickling of anxiety, deep in his core. As the feelings begin to take root, Wolfgang feels suddenly hyperaware of his own body, the bedsheets against his skin sparking off uncomfortable points of sensation across his body, while the feel of stubble against the pads of his fingertips sends a shiver of revulsion down his spine.

 _“Did I have a nightmare?’_ Wolfgang wonders. 

Sometimes, the ghosts of his past would overwhelm him and he’d wake up halfway to the toilet, guilt and shame and fear burning in his throat. 

But that didn’t explain why his skin felt all hypersensitive and weird.

 _“A shower will help.”_ Wolfgang decided. 

It always had before. Water was his sanctuary, his balm. He’d be fine after he had a shower.

His mind made up, Wolfgang stands up, ignoring the flighty, panicky feeling growing in his chest. But when he moves forward a step, he feels this _thing_ swing between his legs, brushing up against a thigh.

Immediately, the anxious feeling spikes painfully in his chest, drawing a surprised gasp from him. Wolfgang glances down at himself.

His stomach rolls and he suddenly has to swallow around a very real physical wave of nausea. 

_No, no, no, no this was wrong._

His skin feels too tight suddenly, suffocating him. He sees the hard, flat planes and sharp angles of his body, instead of soft, gentle curves, and feels like he’s going to be sick. He feels something in his chest give a painful _lurch_ at the broadness of his shoulders and the terrible asymmetry that they have with hips that were suddenly too small, too narrow.

But, perhaps worst of all, is the length of flesh dangling mockingly from between his legs.

His head is gripped with an ache he knows no painkiller could ever touch, an ache that was like a gaping wound in his mind, throbbing to the beat of _wrong, wrong, wrong_.

He feels sick and gross and he wants to cry because he’s never going to be like the others, nobody would ever see him as anything but a _freak_ and he’s going to be stuck like this forever, he’s going to be trapped in this fucking _bag of meat_ as long as he lives and he _hates it_.

A constant chorus of _“why, why, why?”_ bounces around in his head, causing the pain in his head to worsen. An endless litany of _“Why me?”, “Why was I born?”, “Why am I like this?”_ demands his attention, not allowing him respite from the growing psychological pain thudding through his mind.

He wants to tear his skin off and peel and chip away at bone and tissue until he felt less like screaming, less like curling up and just _dying, he would to do anything to stop feeling like this_.

 _This wasn’t right, this wasn’t him_.

…This _wasn’t_ him.

The realisation hits him like a brick and he clings to it desperately, using it to anchor himself, to draw himself away from these feelings, to bring him back to himself. 

Slowly, the rolling, churning nausea settles down and he feels like his skin fits a bit better. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as he calms.

He needs to see Nomi.

Moving quickly to the closet at the foot of the bed, he throws on the first t-shirt and pair of pants he can find, before walking out of the room and into the dark living room of Nomi and Amanita’s San Francisco apartment. 

The room feels cold and empty and he instinctively knows that Nomi is alone. He prods a bit further and gleans through the connection that Amanita is at a work function, at the insistence of Nomi, who had wanted a bit of time to herself.

Something that was near impossible, when sharing a head with seven others.

Peering into the darkness, he spots Nomi in the kitchen, sniffling quietly and wiping at her eyes as she makes a cup of tea. He begins making his way over to her.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters hoarsely, as he reaches the island behind her, her back to him. “You shouldn’t’ve had to feel that.”

“Neither should’ve you.” He returns softly. 

Nomi doesn’t reply, but he hears what sounds like a muffled sob.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He ventures cautiously. 

He’d gotten a lot better over time at expressing his emotions and dealing with others’, thanks to the love and support of his cluster and loved ones, but he was still very wary about discussing bigger emotional topics.

Nomi sighs quietly, turning to face him and leaning against the bench. He mirrors her position and waits.

“My dysphoria’s been really bad for the past few days now, worse than it’s been in a while. Like, I know that I pass and that no-one would even know that I’m trans, even if they saw me naked, but…”

She sighs again and looks him, her eyes shining with pain and exhaustion and underneath it, a cold fury.

“…but I know and that’s enough. Even with all the surgeries and hormones in the world I’ll always-” and here she gestures angrily “-have that knowledge hanging over my head. That no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will always be stuck with fucking _Michael!_ ”

Her voice cracks sharply on the name and she lets out a choked sob. He moves over so that he’s leaning next to her, allowing his consciousness to briefly nudge against hers, in a gesture of comfort.

She exhales, laying her head on his shoulder, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“And it’s just been little things y’know, like I was ordering takeout the other day and my voice sounded deeper than usual and then the server gave me a weird look, and last week, I bought this really cute top but I was too broad in the shoulders and it didn’t fit and then yesterday Neets started her period…”

Nomi’s voice goes up in pitch and speed, as she struggles to choke back tears.

“…and then today I fall asleep on the couch and when I wake up, I have a penis between my legs and I didn’t even realise that we were sharing because it was just so _awful_ and-”

She loses the battle, turning her face into his shoulder and starting to sob, _hard_. 

Wolfgang feels his heart break for her. 

He turns towards her and wraps her up properly in a hug, holding her close as she cries into his shoulder. He’s never been very good at comforting, so he draws upon the few hazy memories of his mother comforting him.

He rubs her back gently and starts humming _La-Le-Lu_ , an old lullaby his mother used to sing.

The soothing motions and tune are easy enough for Wolfgang to do almost automatically, so he turns his mental energy to finding a way of making Nomi feel a bit better.

They stand in the kitchen for an indeterminate amount of time, Wolfgang having switched at some point to _Guten Abend, gute Nacht_ , while Nomi winds down. 

It’s only when she starts sniffling quietly and her breathing has evened out, that Wolfgang has his idea. 

He looks at Nomi, who is starting to pull her face away from his shirt, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“Get into your pyjamas” He states.

“What?” Nomi looks at him bemusedly. 

He can feel her consciousness nudge against his as she attempts to glean information about his new plan. He steadfastly blocks her out, feeling a distinct _huff_ of annoyance in return.

“Get into your pyjamas, just trust me.” 

She still looks confused, but nods.

“I’ll be back in just a moment.” He tells her, waiting for her assent, before stepping back into his room and changing quickly into a pair of black sweatpants and a loose, comfortable, grey shirt.

He then goes into the living room and shuts the blinds, creating a dark, cave-like feel to the room. He moves over the other side of the room and crouches down to open the cupboard under the television. He moves a few DVD’s around, before finding a hidden latch and popping it open. He pries the small door open with his fingers. He removes the contents of the secret cavity behind the door and shuts it back up, placing the contents of the cavity in a stack next to the television.

He pops back into Nomi’s living room to find her waiting patiently in a pair of long-sleeved Pink Panther pyjamas.

“Ok, ready.” He says and they blink back into his living room. Nomi sits down on the couch as Wolfgang moves over to peruse the stack of DVDs he had retrieved from the secret cavity in the cupboard, before selecting one and popping it open.

“So, do you want to tell me what’s going on here, or…?”

“When Felix and I were about 15 or 16 years old,” he explains as he removes the DVD from the case. “He fell in love with this girl, Anja Rainier. She was a real bitch, but Felix was fucking _enamoured_ with her. He worked up the courage to ask her out and she said yes. Her stupid friends probably dared her to, or some shit. She strung him along for a few months, then one day pretended that he simply didn’t exist.”

Wolfgang placed the DVD into the player and closed the case.

“He found out that they were done when he caught her kissing the goalie of the school football team. He was heartbroken. He sat and cried in his room for hours that day, before coming out to drag me out to some shitty little DVD rental shop, to hire every romance movie he could get his hands on. We stayed home from school for the rest of that week, watching the movies that he’d hired.”

Wolfgang moves away from the television to sit with his back against Nomi’s shins.

“After that week, Felix never touched another romance film again. But whenever I was having a really bad day, I would find myself drawn to them. If he ever found out that I still watch them, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Hence the secret cavity in the DVD cabinet.” Nomi guesses, beginning to catch on to Wolfgang’s plan.

He nods in confirmation, then tilts his head up to meet her eyes and speaks in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t tell anyone… but _Sleepless in Seattle_ is one of my favourite movies.”

“Oh my god.” Nomi whispers back, eyes shining and smile beginning to spread across her face. “I am so on board with this plan.”

Wolfgang smiles back, feeling a rush of _lovejoytriumph_ sweep through him at the knowledge that his plan was working and his clustermate was beginning to feel better. He leans forward briefly to press play on the remote, before pressing his back solidly against Nomi’s legs, in a show of simple physical affection that both of them, as a result of their less-than-stellar childhoods, found themselves craving frequently and had, only recently, begun indulging in more often.

During the famous pottery scene in _Ghost_ , the second movie, Wolfgang feels discomfort begin seeping in across the connection and tilts his head up to look at Nomi, to find her staring intently at the interlocked hands onscreen.

He watches her compare the hands of the couple, sizing up the difference between the size of the pairs. She glances from the dainty hands of the woman to her own nimble hands and tucks them under her thighs, out of sight.

He feels self-consciousness and embarrassment flash across from her and knows he’s got to say something to try and help ease her suffering.

“Hey,” He says, twisting around to face her. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide away.”

He manages to catch snatches of her thoughts, words like _big, freak_ and _man_ jumping out at him, as her gaze flickers back up to the television. 

He shakes his head.

“That’s bullshit, they don’t look like that. You don’t have the hands of a man; you have the hands of a woman.”

He feels her disbelief clearly and looks her in the eyes, getting up and sitting next to her on the couch.

“I’ll show you, then. Give me your hand.”

She hesitates, but he doesn’t break eye contact with her. After a few moments, her hands reappear on her lap.

He grabs one and lays it, palm down, on top of his. His hands, scarred and calloused, are significantly larger than her slim, soft hands.

“See the difference between our hands?” 

He moves her hand off of his, so that he can compare the size of their fingers. Yet again, his fingers are bigger, wide and short, like a factory worker, whereas hers are long and skinny, like a pianist.

“I have big hands, men’s hands. You don’t. You’re not a man and you’re not a _freak_. You’re Nomi, our badass lesbian hacker. You’re a _woman_ and the size of your hands doesn’t change that.”

He holds her gaze, trying to convey his earnestness to her. Nomi looks away, drawing her hand back and sighing.

“Yeah, I know. It’s probably just my brain being stupid again.” She still looks miserable.

“Would you like me to go get Kala, Riley or Sun for you?” He asks cautiously, unsure of how helpful he’s actually being.

Nomi shakes her head.

Wolfgang feels another idea creep into his head, hesitating briefly.

“…Maybe we could paint your nails, if that would make you feel better? I’m sure I can find some nail polish somewhere, if you want.”

Nomi considers it and nods, giving him a smile.

Wolfgang gets up and blinks over to Nomi and Amanita’s apartment, going into the bathroom and grabbing out a container with around a dozen bottles in it.

He blinks back with his prize, moving over and setting it down on the ground in front of the television, where Nomi has migrated in his absence.

He sits down too, trying his hardest to ignore the logical impossibility of having Nomi’s nail polishes in his apartment on the other side of the world. 

He knew that it was all based around perception and that Nomi had gotten the box and not him, but sometimes the irrationality of the connection caught him off guard.

Nomi reaches for both a lilac and a pastel pink coloured bottle.

“Could we please change the movie?”

“Sure.” Wolfgang answers easily, moving forward and ejecting the disc. “Pick something else, I don’t mind what we watch.”

Nomi scoops up his collection and spreads them all out on the floor, scrutinising them carefully.

“Do… do you have any queer romance movies? Just for something a bit different?

“Um…” Wolfgang leans over, peering at the movies. “I have… _Philadelphia, Blue is the Warmest Colour_ and _Freier Fall_.”

“Ok, I remember _Philadelphia_ is really depressing and _Blue is the Warmest Colour_ is really long, so I don’t really want to watch either of those. What’s _Freier Fall_?”

“It’s a gay German drama about two policemen. I bought it because one of the leads looks a lot like me.”

Nomi picks up the DVD, holding it up so that she can compare his face to the actor on the cover.

“Oh my god, he’s your doppelgänger, that’s so cool! Does it have a happy ending?”

“Not really.”

Nomi sighs, putting it down. She picks up the DVD next to it and looks at the cover closely for a moment, before turning it over to face him.

“Maybe we could watch this? I know it’s a bit sad, but I’m kind of in the mood for something musical right now.”

She holds up a DVD of the movie _RENT_. Wolfgang had forgotten that he’d even owned a copy.

“Sure, I’m always up for a musical."

Wolfgang takes the DVD from her and loads it into the player. Nomi stacks the DVDs back up, then settles down with the nail polish.

Wolfgang watches her confidently apply the paint in broad, even strokes, feeling oddly curious. She feels his gaze on her and smiles, looking up to meet his eyes.

“I could teach you how to do this, if you like.” She says softly.

He finds himself nodding.

“Would you like to help paint my nails, or paint your own?”

He hesitates, feeling his curiosity and an odd sort of _desire_ war against an instinctual fear of being seen as feminine, a leftover from his shitty, homophobic father.

Seeing this, Nomi offers an alternative.

“It doesn’t have to be fingernails; you could always paint your toes. No-one would see them, except for Kala and Rajan and they won’t mind that they’re painted.”

The curiosity and desire win. 

Wolfgang gets up and hunts around in the bathroom, looking for Kala’s small collection of nail polishes. He sets the pots on the bathroom counter.

“What colour do I use?” He yells over his shoulder.

Nomi glances at them from over his shoulder.

“I’d just grab them all and experiment a bit, if I were you. Also grab the bottle of nail polish remover and a few cotton balls.”

Wolfgang grabs everything and heads back into the living room, sitting back down next to Nomi and picking out a cherry red polish that he thinks might look nice.

Nomi, having finished her fingernails, had opened a blue and an orange bottle for her toenails. She waits patiently for him to get situated, before showing him how to apply the polish cleanly and evenly.

The first few toes of his left foot end up a bit messy, as he gets used to the small brush and how it moves. By the time he finishes the other foot, however, he’s gotten better at keeping the nail polish off of his skin and was fairly proud of his efforts. Finishing up, he wipes the brush on the rim of the bottle and starts screwing all the lids back on to the bottles.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Nomi asks quickly.

Wolfgang looks up at her, feeling confused.

“…Packing up… We’re finished now, aren’t we?”

Nomi grins.

“Oh, not by a long shot… We’re not even on the second coat, yet.”

The next while is spent watching the movie, as they wait for their nails to dry between coats. After their nails have dried from the third or so coat, Nomi beckons him closer.

Peering over her shoulder, Wolfgang watches as she dips the brush into the orange bottle of nail polish and wipes off the excess, before dabbing the brush on her already-painted nails.

“When you’ve applied enough nail polish, then you can get creative and decorate your nails.”

Nomi was gently brushing the orange polish on the blue-coloured nails to create polka dots.

Wolfgang looks down at his toes.

“Maybe another time, I like how they look plain.”

Nomi nods, still focusing on painting.

“Fair enough. I kinda would like to see how you do at nail art one day, though. I remember catching a glimpse of the Krampus you painted on the key shop window, back in Berlin. It was pretty good.”

Wolfgang smiles.

“Thanks, but I think I will find painting a nail a bit harder than the window.”

After Nomi finishes painting her nails, she produces two clear bottles of nail polish and, as they spread the varnish over the painted nails, she explains to him that adding a clear coat will make the nail polish look nicer and last longer.

When they are completely finished, Wolfgang screws the lids on tightly and puts them all back in their respective bathrooms.

When Wolfgang has finished packing up, they move back to the couch to finish the movie, Nomi curling up with her feet in his lap. He knows her feet are too ticklish for him to rub them, so he settles for placing his hand on her ankle, his thumb rubbing absent circles across her skin.

They sit comfortably together, until the sound of keys jangling in a lock halfway through the final musical number draws their attention.

“That must be Amanita.” Said Nomi, getting to her feet and stretching her arms up over her head, before offering Wolfgang a hand up.

He takes it and she pulls him to his feet. He rolls his shoulders and glances at the clock hanging in the kitchen.

“Kala and Rajan will be home any minute now.”

Nomi smiles at him and wraps her arms around him in a strong hug.

“Thank you so much, Wolfgang. I really needed that.”

Wolfgang could feel it. Over the course of the day, her dysphoria had slunk back to its regular spot in the dark corner at the back of her mind, where it buzzed quietly in the background. 

This was, of course, a far cry from the soul-consuming tidal wave that it had been earlier that day.

Wolfgang grinned, returning the embrace just as strongly and feeling their love for each other echo across the connection.

“Anytime, _Schwesti_.”

Nomi’s grip tightened for a second, then she pulled back and flashed him one final smile, before blinking back to San Francisco to share her newly-improved mood with the love of her life. 

Wolfgang set about returning the DVDs to their hidden place in the cabinet, to wait until the next time that they were needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a trans girl, so I'm not too sure how accurate I was being in my depiction of Nomi's dysphoria, in this fic. Please let me know if anything is wrong or needs to be adjusted.


	2. Farmers' Markets, Panic Attacks and Alice in Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD ABUSE, SEXUAL ABUSE, UNDERAGE SEX, RAPE, INCEST, HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE  
> This chapter contains graphic depictions of child sexual abuse and rape of a minor by a family member, alongside physical abuse and mild violence. This chapter also involves graphic descriptions of a flashback and a panic attack. As with the other chapter, if you are worried about triggering yourself by reading this, maybe give it a miss.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :)

The early morning dew glints mesmerizingly from every leaf in the soft light of Autumn, bringing a smile to Nomi’s face, as she strolls down the street. Fallen leaves in an array of reds, oranges and yellows crunch underneath her feet, while the brisk air nips at her nose and has her pulling her jacket tighter for warmth. 

Even at 9am, the heart of the Richmond District (colloquially known as the Russian District) was bustling, with shopkeepers barking out prices, children laughing and the distant bell of a cyclist all swirling together in a cacophony of noise that told Nomi she had _definitely_ come to the right place. 

Touted as one of the best Farmers’ Markets in their area, the _Lozhnny Market_ was an impressive in its size, stretching out along two whole streets in a sea of multicoloured marquees and booths.

This market also allegedly had the nicest fruit in the area. 

Nomi had decided for Valentine’s Day, which was 2 days away, she would attempt to bake Neet’s favourite dessert, cherry pie, to take on their annual sex-nic, as a surprise. Lito and Riley had both sworn to help her make the pie, after witnessing her use baking soda instead of baking _powder_ whilst making a cake once (as it turns out, they are _not_ practically the same thing). 

So, with her kitchen help locked down, Nomi begun researching which places were best to get good cherries from, without paying ridiculous amounts of money for them. 

Having landed on the _Lozhnny Market_ as the best option, Nomi had waited until Amanita had left for work, before boarding a streetcar to the Richmond District.

Walking along the narrow pathway between stalls, Nomi scans the tables on either side of her for fruit, eventually spying a few tables laden with cardboard boxes underneath a green marquee. A wooden sign with “FRESH PRODUCE” and, underneath it in smaller letters, “СВЕЖИЕ ПРОДУКТЫ” printed on it in white paint, leant against the leg of the table.

Nomi stepped up to the stall, looking for cherries in the mix of apples, bananas, oranges and other assorted fruits on the middle table. She finds the cherries hidden towards the back of the table and looks up to see an old woman at the back of the marquee climb slowly to her feet and make her way over, leaning heavily on a cane.

She borrows knowledge from Wolfgang and asks politely for two pounds of cherries in flawless Russian, to the surprise and delight of the woman, who, after speaking with Nomi for a short while, sends her off with an extra punnet of strawberries, claiming that she reminds her of her granddaughter.

Feeling a quiet sort of contentment, Nomi begins to walk back the way she came, watching the hustle and bustle of the district. A young family walks by, a small boy tugging delightedly at his father’s hand and pointing in apparent amazement at a fire hydrant. Ahead of her, two old men sit on a bench, smoking cigars and chatting quietly. 

As she walks past the bench, one of the men turns his face to the side and exhales a plume of smoke. The wind catches the smoke and sends it right back into Nomi’s face, the potent smell of the cigars burning sickeningly in her sinuses.

The smell is nauseating. It lingers bitterly in the back of her throat, akin to the taste of bile. Her stomach flips and she feels panic hit her as suddenly and strongly as a bucket of ice-water. 

Her throat burns and her vision blurs and when it clears, she is standing in her bedroom, young and small again.

The walls are stained a dirty grey and the plaster is cracked in places, crumbling away with every slight vibration. The roof is even worse off. The bed is old and weathered and the battered chest of drawers in the corner is missing most of the handles. Nomi can feel the pain in her fingers from the nail splitting from the skin every time she shoves her fingers into the gaps to pry the drawers open as a dull ache that never seems to fade.

Her room feels bare and sparse without her bookshelf tucked up on the far wall or the David Bowie poster above her bed. The bookshelf, and all the books that had been on it, had been destroyed by her father about a week ago, when she’d fought back during one of his drunken rages by throwing a book at his head. The poster was torn up not long after because _he’s a fucking fag only fags listen to his music are you a little faggot bitch?_

She is startled from her thoughts by a loud _bang_ from below her, the front door slamming hard against the wall.

She feels her mouth go dry. Her chest felt tight suddenly, like someone is squeezing it really hard and she struggles to breathe properly.

She needs to hide.

 _“Not that it matters.”_ whispers the voice in her head. _“You know that he always finds you and you’re too weak to stop him.”_

Desperately ignoring the voice, Nomi drops to the ground and shimmies under her bed, her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears, almost drowning out the slow, heavy _thuds_ coming up the stairs.

The door flings open violently and she flinches reflexively, huddling closer to the wall. She holds her breath, not daring to make a sound as heavy boots track around the room. They stop in front of the bed. Nomi feels her blood run cold.

He’s found her.

The boots disappear and she is suddenly face to face with her father’s grinning face, cigar dangling haphazardly from his lips.

“You can’t hide from me, freak. Now come and get your medicine.” His voice is low, _dangerous_.

A long, hairy arm reaches out and she’s being tugged violently by the collar out from under the bed.

 _“It’s going to happen again.”_ Her mind supplies, distantly. 

She feels a wave of panic sweep over her.

Fruitlessly she struggles, punching and kicking and biting at everything she can reach but he only laughs.

Red bursts through her vision as he slams her head, hard, against the floor, the carpet doing little to protect her.

She groans, feeling pain lance sharply through her head, her body going limp in his grasp.

He uses the opportunity to undo the button on her pants, tugging harshly at the zipper of her pants until it yields, one forearm pressing heavily at her neck, limiting her oxygen. Ash falls from the tip of the cigar to burn a hole in her shirt, just above her bellybutton.

Still woozy from having her head slammed against the carpet, the lack of oxygen is enough to keep her limp underneath him. It isn’t until she feels her pants and underwear being yanked down to her ankles, exposing her to the cool air of the room, that her brain kicks back into gear, adrenaline giving her the strength to struggle, her hands moving up to claw at the hairy appendage at her throat.

Her nail catches, tearing a thin, red line across the skin of the arm. She feels blood between her fingers, the warmth of it bringing her a grim sort of satisfaction. 

The feeling doesn’t last long.

“You fucking little shit!”

The palm of his hand lashes fire against her cheek, sending her head rocking back violently, her teeth biting down hard on her tongue.

Hands grab her and flip her roughly onto her front. Her hand bends painfully when she lands and she feels herself gasp at the pain. Her torso is pushed forward roughly until it presses against the filthy, scratchy carpet, while her knees are forced underneath her, leaving her exposed and vulnerable and at the mercy of a man who had none.

A bolt of pure terror runs through her at the position, her attempts to get away changing to pleading, to begging _“please please I’ll be good don’t I’ll be good please”_.

Her cries fall on deaf ears. 

He eyes her with disapproval and hatred burning in his eyes, puffing on his cigar as tears begin to well in her eyes, slipping out to stream down her face. 

His leans down closer to her head, smoke billowing out his mouth, clouding around her and clogging her mouth and nose with that acidic, sickly smell that burns the back of her throat and causes bile to rise up from her stomach.

“You fucking bitch, I’ll give you something to cry about.”

He takes one final drag from the cigar, then grinds the lit end into her shoulder blade.

She _screams_ , the agony lancing through her. The smell of the cigar is overwhelming now, swirling dizzily around her head and choking her with hazy fingers of smoke.

But nothing can ever prepare her for the pain of what comes next.

She feels her father press against her body, feels _it_ press against her in a place that should never be touched, and then suddenly he’s pushing forward, pushing the air from her lungs as he forces his way inside her and begins to thrust.

The _thing_ inside her feels so disgusting and big and _wrong_ and she can feel it dragging painfully at her insides as it moves, her stomach lurching at the feeling. She feels a constant burning and stinging _down there_ and registers the sensation of hot blood running down her thighs.

She goes limp.

Her cheek drags painfully against the carpet under her, but she hardly feels it. 

Numbness draws a heavy cloak around her mind and she feels herself sink deeper into its frozen embrace, falling further and further away from herself, into a void of blissful unawareness.

Her eyes move around absently, drifting like she feels herself drifting….

…until the sight of a reflection in the battered metal of her bedframe slams her back into awareness.

Looking back at her from the reflection, with eyes that looked so distressingly blank, is Wolfgang, as young and small as she is.

_“Wolfgang.” _She whispers as their eyes meet.__

__His eyes locked onto hers and she feels a rush of _panicfearshamesick_ hit her like a freight train, the shock of it jarring her away from the room, sending her stumbling back onto the pavement of the street, the sudden sun and noise blindsiding her for a moment._ _

____

She takes a moment to get her bearings back, trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat. She felt like screaming, like crying, like throwing up and she isn’t really sure that she won’t end up doing all three.

____

She needs to see Wolfgang.

____

Moving brusquely down the street, ignoring the confused and concerned shouts from the men on the bench, she heads to the pick-up point for the streetcars.

____

After boarding the streetcar and sitting down, she blinks over to Paris and finds herself in the loungeroom of Wolfgang, Rajan and Kala’s apartment. Wolfgang is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

____

Even without the Sensate connection making her privy to Wolfgang’s inner thoughts and feelings, Nomi can recognize the symptoms of a panic attack when she sees them.

____

Harsh, choked breaths echo loudly in the spacious room and Nomi feels the tightness in his chest, as if it were her own. She can feel her heart pounding painfully in time with his and she is hit by a wave of dizziness, the world blurring together, causing hot, heavy nausea to coil tightly in her stomach.

____

But, perhaps worst of all, she can feel the lingering sensation of too-hot phantom hands against her skin, groping her in her most intimate places, _his_ voice ringing mockingly in her ears.

____

Nomi knows that she needs to help Wolfgang calm down, quickly, before his panic overwhelms the both of them and they are dragged back into his memories.

____

She moves over and perches on the coffee table in front of him.

____

He’s shaking like a leaf in a storm and now that she’s closer, she can see that his fingers are digging so hard into his scalp that his knuckles have turned white.

____

“Wolfgang.” She says gently. “Wolfgang, look at me.”

____

At the sound of her voice, something seems to loosen its grip on Wolfgang enough for him to drop his hands from his face. Terror-filled blue eyes dart up to meet hers and Nomi tries for a reassuring smile. She doesn’t know how successful she is.

____

“Deep breaths.” she continues soothingly, maintaining eye contact with her clustermate. “Just _breathe_ for me, in and out. In and out”

____

She can panic and fear gnawing at his mind like a rabid dog, alongside a dawning horror as he discovers that he can’t draw a proper breath.

____

“Try again.” She encourages. “I’ll count and I want you to try and follow it.” 

____

Nomi begins counting slowly and evenly, as Wolfgang begun trying match his breathing to her voice. As the minutes crawl by, Wolfgang gradually begun to regain control of himself. Nomi stops counting and felt their connection pulse in time with their breathing.

____

When his heart has stopped pounding so painfully, Wolfgang breaks eye contact with her, exhaling slowly and studying his hands.

____

“Thank you. I’m sorry that you had to feel that, it won’t happen again.”

____

“Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t your fault. Besides, I’d rather deal with traumatic memories and help you than leave you to try to battle with them yourself.”

____

“Still, thank you. I’m feeling fine now though, so you can go back to whatever you were doing.”

____

This was one of the worst lies Nomi had ever heard in her life.

____

The trembling that wracked his body had yet to abate and while Nomi could feel that the panic and fear had faded, the coiling and rolling in her gut told her that the urge to be sick was still as strong as it was before. She’d also have to be blind not to see how frighteningly pale he still was. 

____

While he had improved greatly when it came to asking for help since the war against BPO, he still struggled with it, feeling like it made him _weak_ or that he was too much of a burden. The cluster was trying their hardest to help him with this, but they knew that it would probably take years until he stopped feeling shame or guilt every time that he needed help. 

____

She raises an eyebrow.

____

“You _do_ realise that we’re connected mentally and I can actually _feel_ everything you can, right?”

____

He winces, caught out and she sighs.

____

“Look, if you need me to leave you alone, I’ll go, but I really don’t want to leave you alone to deal with this yourself... Would you like me to stay?”

____

He hesitates, then nods.

____

“I… Could you help find something to distract me? My head doesn’t go to nice places after shit like this happens.”

____

Nomi considers her options. It’d have to be something low-stress but also not physically demanding, considering Wolfgang’s physical and emotional state, which rules out his usual hobbies, like swimming and boxing.

__A tap on her shoulder cuts through her musings and she looks at Wolfgang._ _

____

“I’ll be right back.”

____

He nods and she blinks back to San Francisco to find that her streetcar has stopped moving. She glances up at the screen at the top of the car, which is displaying the name of her stop. Will is sitting next to her.

____

“What’s going on with Wolfgang? None of us can reach him.”

____

Kala leans over her shoulder, helping her gather her things.

____

“We’ve been terribly worried; we felt the distress from both of you and then he blocked the rest of us out.”

____

Sun grabs her bag of fruit, and together, they hop off the streetcar and begin the 5 minute walk back to the apartment.

____

“I walked past men smoking cigars and the smell triggered a flashback for Wolfgang. I got taken along for the ride.”

____

“Is he ok?” asks Riley, sounding concerned. She, perhaps better than anyone, knew the terrifyingly strong grip that memories could have.

____

Nomi briefly explains the flashback and subsequent panic attack and watches the rest of the cluster exchange worried looks.

____

“I think he’ll be fine, but the worst thing you could do to someone when they’re feeling like he is, is to crowd them. He’s blocked the rest of you out for a reason, I think he just needs a bit of space and one-on-one time.”

____

Though none of them like knowing that their clustermate is struggling and not doing anything to help him, Nomi knows they all agree with her.

____

“Ok, please let him know that we understand.” Kala says.

____

“And that he is loved.” Lito adds, his hand brushing against her shoulder gently.

____

“And that we are all here, whenever he needs us.” Capheus declares sincerely, love and determination colouring his tone.

____

Nomi nods and one by one, they all blink away.

____

Nomi then turns her thoughts back to finding a distraction for Wolfgang, the familiar scenery passing by quickly. A flash of white in her peripheral catches her eye and she turns her head to look at it.

____

Plastered on the side of a building is an advertisement for the new _Fifty Shades of Grey_ movie.

____

_“That’s it!”_ Nomi feels the idea hit like lightning. _“Wolfgang watches romance movies whenever he isn’t feeling good. We could do that!”_

____

As she looks at the billboard, the sensual nature of the poster sparks a thought that causes her to pause.

____

_“What if Wolfgang gets triggered by a sex scene in a movie? I don’t want to make him feel worse than he already does, trying to cheer him up.”_

____

Nomi decides that it isn’t worth the risk.

____

But her failed first idea plants a new one in Nomi’s head. She remembers when she was younger, whenever her parents were gone, her and Teagan would build a pillow fort in the living room and lounge around all day, watching their favourite movies.

____

She blinks back to the Paris. Wolfgang is sitting on the couch, visibly on edge. He relaxes minutely at her arrival, but still remains tense. His phone is held loosely in his left hand.

____

“Rajan called. He said that he and Kala are stuck at the lab. Apparently, there’s been an important breakthrough and it’ll take them hours to finish up testing.”

____

“That actually works in well with what I was planning. I also spoke to the others while I was gone.” Guilt flashes across Wolfgang’s face.

____

I told them that you might need some space and they said to let you know that they understand and that they love you and are all here for you, whenever you need them.”

____

Wolfgang nods, relieved. Nomi figures that now is the best time to enact her plan.

____

“Okay, so just then I had an idea of something we could do, but I’ll need you to get changed in to the _comfiest_ clothes that you own for my plan to have the full effect.”

____

She waits for him to nod, albeit confusedly.

____

“Okay, next… will you be alright to sit tight for 5 minutes, while I set things up?”

____

He nods and she looks into his eyes for any trace of discomfort or fear. Finding none, she blinks back to the outside of her apartment, hunting around in her pocket for keys. Going inside, she shuts the door and goes into the kitchen to hide the fruit in the fridge.

____

She then moves into the bedroom and changes into her pyjamas, throwing one of Neet’s old sweaters on over the top. She steps into the loungeroom and surveys the space. 

____

It’s time to get to work.

____

The next 4 minutes are spent in a flurry of activity, as Nomi shifts furniture around, hunts around for pillows and grabs as many sheets and blankets as she can.

____

For the final touch, Nomi grabs the spare bedspread from the cupboard and lays it out on the floor under the now- fully built pillow fort.

____

She then goes to the DVD cabinet and pulls out a copy of _Aladdin_ , popping it into the player, for later.

____

Stepping through the kitchen doorway and into Wolfgang’s loungeroom, she beckons a finger towards Wolfgang, who is now clad in a pair of black sweatpants and what she is fairly sure is Rajan’s gray pyjama top.

____

He follows her dutifully back into her loungeroom, his eyes landing on the pillow fort that is occupying the majority of the room.

____

“I remembered that one time that my dysphoria was acting up and you watched all those romance movies with me. I thought that we could do that again, but with some different movies?” She says tentatively.

____

He nods, a small smile tugging briefly at his lips. Now that the panic has passed, Nomi can feel that the nausea and shaking have been joined by an aching exhaustion in his muscles and a deep, penetrating cold.

____

Nomi was no stranger to the more physical after effects of a panic attack. Years of practice and many hours of research online, had however, equipped her with the knowledge to alleviate these symptoms.

____

Nomi was also no stranger to the more emotional after effects of a panic attack. She figured that any emotional episodes would occur, for Wolfgang, _long_ after the physical symptoms had faded, after he’d had time to properly process everything.

____

She was determined to be there for him, every step of the way.

____

Moving to the cupboard down the hallway, Nomi opens it up and plunges her hand right to the back, where all the heavy-duty winter stuff was stored. Feeling her way along, she encounters soft fabric and pulls out the softest and warmest blanket she owns.

____

Holding the thick, heavy, gray sheep wool blanket, she shakes it out and moves over to Wolfgang, offering it to him. He takes it and wraps it quietly around himself.

____

“Go sit down and I’ll be there in a sec.” She says softly, pressing play, before heading towards the kitchen and assembling two mugs of chamomile tea, with generous amounts of sugar; her go-to after a panic attack.

____

Adding a splash of milk, she carries them back into the loungeroom, climbing through the entrance to the pillow fort and handing one mug to Wolfgang, who is lying on his stomach, still bundled tightly in the oversized blanket.

____

His hands shake so badly that he can’t hold the mug without spilling it, so she wordlessly goes to get him a straw.

____

Sitting cross-legged and wriggling deeper into her own blanket, Nomi turns her attention to the movie.

____

It’s only around the end of the third movie, _Alice in Wonderland_ , that Nomi feels all of the stress, pain, fear and exhaustion of the day catch up with Wolfgang.

____

A soft, hastily muffled noise that can only be a _sob_ , reaches Nomi’s ears and has her turning to the gray blanket that her clustermate had slowly been burrowing deeper into over the course of the day.

____

From her angle, she couldn’t really see his face, but she could feel how his eyes suddenly burn and how he struggles to swallow around a painful lump in his throat. She could feel how hard he was fighting to keep it together, to stop himself from showing vulnerability.

____

“Wolfgang,” she found herself saying. “It’s _okay_.”

____

She feels his resolve weaken slightly as a fresh wave of emotion washes over him.

____

“It’s okay to cry, to not be together all the time. It’s okay to sometimes need help from others. You’re safe here, just let it out.”

____

She can feel how _desperately_ he wants to listen to her, how his mind is screaming out for comfort, for safety, how _badly_ he wants to let go, but she can hear his father’s voice taunting him loudly, calling him a _bitch_ and _weak_ for daring to express his emotions.

____

“Wolfgang, I _promise_ you, you’re not weak for crying. Your father is _wrong_ and you’re so much stronger than that. I _promise_ it’s okay to let go, I’ve got you.”

____

She lays her hand, palm up, in front of him, in offering. The gesture and the message of love and solidarity behind it is what finally pushes Wolfgang off the edge.

____

His hand shoots out to pull hers closer to him and his body is suddenly wracked with shudders as she feels him surrender himself to his pain. Nomi can feel her sleeve rapidly dampen, where his face is pressed against her forearm and his torso is convulsing so hard that she can feel the echo of an ache in her ribs. Agony radiates out from somewhere deep within him, pouring out from him in waves.

____

Despite all of this, Wolfgang doesn’t make a sound as he cries.

____

But, worse than that, Nomi can feel, underneath the agony and misery, Wolfgang’s disbelief that _she’s still there_ , that she doesn’t hate him, that she isn’t disgusted, that she doesn’t think he’s _weak_ or _bad_ or a _little bitch_ for crying.

____

Nomi feels her heart break for him.

____

She shifts until she is able to comfortably manoeuvre around the arm that Wolfgang’s clinging to, slipping her other hand up to his head to scratch at his scalp in a way that she knows has never failed to soothe him.

____

All she can do now is ride it out with him.

____

By the time his breathing has evened out and the worst of the emotional onslaught has passed, Nomi finds herself sitting with her back against the couch, so that she can keep running her hand through Wolfgang’s hair, his head laying comfortably on her right thigh.

____

“Feel better?” She asks softly.

____

Wolfgang nods.

____

“Sorry.” He murmurs hoarsely.

____

Nomi feels the shame and embarrassment radiating from her clustermate and know she has to say something to counteract these feelings.

____

“You don’t _ever_ need to apologise for crying or needing help when you’re struggling. Our connection goes both ways, all the love and protectiveness you feel for me, I feel for you. You’re not alone in dealing with this anymore, so don’t be ashamed to reach out to us, when you need it.”

____

She punctuated her statement by allowing her love to flood through the connection to Wolfgang, feeling it wash over him and overwhelm the negative emotions.

____

Glancing up at the TV, Nomi sees that the movie has reverted back to the title screen. She picks up the remote.

____

“SpongeBob sound good to you?”

____

Wolfgang nods and Nomi navigates through menus until she finds the USB drive of 90’s Nicktoons that she’d downloaded to watch with Neets. Scrolling through until she finds the first season of SpongeBob, she selects an episode at random and presses play.

____

Halfway through the first episode, Wolfgang not-so-subtly stifles a yawn.

____

By the time the second episode is finished, his eyes are drifting shut for longer and longer every blink and he is steadily going lax against Nomi.

____

She rouses him long enough to blink back to his apartment and get him into bed (so that he won’t end up sore when he wakes up), running her hand through his hair one final time.

____

He looks at her, fighting to keep his eyes open.

____

“Thanks, Nomi.” He slurs.

____

“Kein Problem, Schatz. Schlaf gut.”

____

His eyes close and she blinks back to herself, feeling the connection fade to the back of her mind. Surveying the nest of blankets and pillows in the middle of the loungeroom, Nomi grins, pulling out her phone to send a quick text to Neets.

____

_How does dinner in a pillow fort sound tonight?_

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, personally, am fortunate to have never been a victim of CSA. Alongside this, I have experienced relatively few panic attacks in my life, so if there is anything that is wrong or needs to be adjusted, please let me know.


End file.
